Vlad Sokhin
By
Jordan Dean
My Ancestors
Long ago, my ancestors roamed this place
These mountains, jungles and mighty rivers
With bow and arrows and mud on their face
They were cannibals that fed on livers
From open savannahs to coastal plain
Rich with a vast range of animal life
They could make storm clouds and bring rain
My ancestors lived free and without strife
Missionaries came and said they’re unholy
You should never judge their tattooed cover
Why say their black magic was ungodly
When your fabled Jesus walked on water?
Never look at my people with distaste
And never draw such conclusions in haste
Papua New Guinea
In the Pacific lies a land of gold
An island floating on a sea of oil
She is my home and there I shall grow old
On these open plains and earth I shall toil
Whether you are watching her ocean waves
Enjoying the stars and moonlit night sky
Or exploring all of her wondrous caves
She keeps calling me in a haunting cry
Early sunrise brings hope for another day
Another day of praying for the best
Her sunsets give a magical display
Putting troubled minds and children to rest
She has embroiled me so tight with her heart
Her mighty grip, I can’t fight nor depart
Puppets
Behind locked-up offices, and the secrecy
A delicate plan set, carefully spun
Cunning words combined with bibliomancy
Our forests were sold to Asians for fun
Agreements signed, their shares deposited
More jobs, they say in the media release
Yet the kina drops, prices inflated
We know it is a white-collar disease
Our leaders are puppets in miniature
Our haus tambaran is a mere circus
Puppets dance to the melody for sure
And play games in parliamentary caucus
For too long, we’ve entertained corruption
Don’t vote for puppets in the election
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